The Return
by The Great Wicked
Summary: Just a late night return and exchange between Connor and my OC Chenoa after the events of AC3, read and review, this could be more than a one-shot…


The Return

The Great Wicked

Just a late night return and exchange between Connor and my OC Chenoa after the events of AC3, read and review, this could be more than a one-shot…

_**I am Chenoa…**_

It's late when he returns, I can hear his horse as its gallop slows to a trot and then finally silence falls outside the manor. He's been gone for several weeks and I haven't had word from him since. I lie quietly in the bed we sometimes share whenever both of us are home, and I listen for the heavy front door. It opens and closes with a loud creak, betraying his silent approach, I hear shuffling downstairs and then his heavy footfalls on the steps as he heads towards our bedroom. Then silence once more, he doesn't want to wake me but the truth is I rarely have a good nights rest whenever he is gone from my sight.

It's been months since he took hold of the Brotherhood and became its new leader, and with Achilles passing it meant a number of responsibilities that suddenly fell on his shoulders. I have made it known to him that we do this together, it is both of us who train assassins and teach about the Brotherhood and it's goals. And while he is away the Brotherhood rests in my hands, and I am its leader. I protect our recruits and I teach them our ways. But mostly I just wait patiently for his return, as I do every moment that he is away.

I can practically hear his thoughts as he stands outside our door, wondering if he should come in. He wonders if he is doing the right thing, restoring the Brotherhood. He wonders if it is what his mother and he people would have wanted. He questions his place in this new and strange world. And more than anything he questions whether or not he is doing the right thing in living this life with me. He wonders if he is depriving me of a simpler life, one without fear and danger. I see his thoughts in every move that he makes, and every gesture. Every time he is called away for the cause, every time he fears for my safety. He wonders if he places me in danger and if it is what I truly want. He wonders if he should let me go.

The minutes tick by as he has yet to come inside, and now I look back on our past together and how we came to find each other. I think of the day he came to save me from torture and certain death, his fearlessness, his strength, and his unbreakable will. He had long since told me the story of the thoughts he had racing through his mind when he took shelter in that cavern that day in the snow, so long ago. He told me once, how he greatly desired me when I was vulnerable and how it did not sit right with his heart to only take, it was not his way. Sometimes in the night when sleep finds neither of us, he tells me the millions of thoughts that entered his mind during our '_courtship_'. He tells me how strange it was that he was born of a Templar and a Mohawk and raised with his people, and how I, the daughter of an Egyptian assassin and a doctor was raised as an Abenaki. The amazing irony that it was my destiny to become an assassin and yet I chose the path of a healer, he calls me _Ori:te nih wa'a, _it means Dove in his native tongue. It is what my name, Chenoa, means in mine. But he only calls me this when we are alone, I am only his Dove when there are no others around to hear it, to the assassins we train we are Masters Connor and Chenoa.

Finally I hear his hand on the door knob and the subtle click as the mechanism opens and he enters our room. It is a simple place with few furnishings, there is a desk and two chairs, a table at the bedside and our bed. All of our lives we have slept on the soft dirt of the Earth and yet this colonial concept of a raised bed made of soft feathers is one that we both greatly enjoy. I continue to lie still with my back to him, the summer is hot and I wear nothing beneath the sheets that contour my body. His feet move soundlessly and he disposes of his gear, first the weapons onto the desk that is near our bed. He always lays them out neatly, everything in its place, I am much the same. To practice medicine, everything must be in its proper place, its amazing how different our paths are and yet how many similarities there are between the two. His weapons are in their place and I can hear him as he shrugs off his assassins robes, I can also hear the small winces he makes from his aches and pains from the long journey. He cannot hide them from me, I have trained in healing all my life and I know him to well, I know when he is in pain, he was always good about hiding his emotions. But I am always better at reading them.

There is a weight on the bed now as he sits very near to me, he puts his head in his hands and rubs his forehead, I know him so well. He is tired and wants too much at the moment, he fells he has no control over what is going on in our lives right now. I want so much to turn to him and wrap my arms around him and rub the aches and pains away from his body, I want to touch him and to ease his sufferings. But I know him too well. I must wait, only a little longer, I shift under the covers slightly to jar him from his thoughts and to remind him that he is home and I am here. I feel him turn and face me, he sighs heavily and then the sound of his boots hit the floor with a dull thud, louder than he imagined. Perhaps he knows I am awake now, he does not dare risk waking me if he believes me to be asleep. I feel his eyes on me now and it's both comforting and maddening. Why must he wait so long for everything? Why must he question himself a hundred times before he makes his move? I have seen him act swiftly and to kill without mercy if the situation calls for it, why then does he hesitate when he is with me? I exhale deeply and close my eyes and I wait for him.

_**I am **__**Ratohnhaké:ton…**_

I am tired, and I fell the many aches and pains of several weeks on the journey, several weeks away from her and this place I call home. It has been months since I ended the immediate Templar threat, with Chenoa at my side, months since she was almost taken from me by Charles Lee's bullet. She shifts under the covers and I believe her to be awake but I dare not wake her if she is asleep. I thought she would die, the last piece of my heart, I never knew anger and fear as I did when he shot her. A cowardly thing. The last attempt to live of a man who had nothing to live for. She seems flawless at a distant glance, but I turn to face her, she has her back to me and the sheets slip away and I can see the scars. The thin white lines that adorn her flesh from when we had first met several years ago. They fade a little more everyday and she maintains that she feels nothing, but I know that to be a lie.

How could anyone forget those scars? How they were bestowed upon her, a manner cruel and befitting of monsters, not men. I want to reach out and touch her, to feel her warm skin beneath my calloused fingertips, I want to make her forget the pain and the memories of how she got those scars. If being with this woman has taught me anything, it is that I desire nothing more for myself but to protect her and to heal her. She insists there is nothing to heal, but I know that too to be a lie.

I saw her so near death several times, the first time she was cold as ice and so blackened with bruises and blood I could barely see her face. It was a strange feeling to know that for several hours after I saved her that I held her life within my own hands. I held her against my body, trying so hard to warm her that I didn't even notice at first how much I enjoyed the feeling of her skin against mine. Had she been well and I not been a man of death I may have tried to kiss her then and there, and certainly the thought did occur to me. The more color returned to her face, and the more the fire warmed her, the more beautiful she became. With the blood washed away and her cheeks picking up a rose color from the heat, I knew that it would not be possible to simply leave her and never see her again. I had to know that she was alright after we parted ways.

I was grateful she was unconscious because more than once I felt a blush creep upon me as I thought more about the beautiful, naked woman in my arms and how I cold think of other ways to warm her. I wondered how soft her lips were and what they tasted like, but I withheld and ignored what my body was craving.

I had no idea I would cross paths again and again with this woman, nor did I know that some time later we would not only share a bed together but a life.

I can hear the softness of her breathing and can't help but stare at how the thin sheet contours her body perfectly, leaving little to my imagination. I swallow hard, marveling at how such a simple image of her laying in our bed covered only in a sheet can provoke such thoughts in me that I would dare consider waking her.

But I've missed her greatly, and I believe she has missed me. I stand up from the bed to rid myself of the rest of my clothes watching her response carefully to see if she is awake as I think she may be. I know she doesn't sleep well when I'm gone, much like I do not sleep well when she is gone. The sound of my boots hitting the floor a little louder than I meant causes her to stir slightly, the sheet slipping off her shoulders revealing more of her to me. I know she can hear me, she can hear the sounds of my clothes as I toss them onto an nearby obliging charing, and I know she can feel the bed shift when I finally throw the covers over myself as I join her.

There is one last test to determine her consciousness, I think. I gingerly reach forward and brush the sheet aside trailing my fingers from the nape of her neck down her back trying to avoid the white lines of scars. Once I reach the flat of her back where the sheet lies, I see it. She shudders and her skin comes alive with gooseflesh, she is indeed awake. If she had been asleep she would have merely given the tiniest of of contented moans and would have moved closer to me but she simply lies there stiff and nearly trembling, she knows me well but I too know her.

My hand reaches up barely touching her skin and I brush some of her russet hair out of her face and then I feel it. Small, steely fingers grasping my hand, guiding them to her lips as she places a kiss to my palm, my breath catches in my throat and for a moment I cannot breath. She lavishes attention on each of my fingers, placing a kiss to my reddened and scraped knuckles then moving to my fingertips. My breathing becomes more shallow as she ends with my index finger, placing a kiss to it before she slips it past her lips and gently sucks on the tip. It only lasts for a moment but the effects still grip me powerfully, I never truly understood the concept of seduction but she schools me well with such simple antics. Increasing my desire for her.

"Olipaiôn wigwam" She says gently to me in her native tongue, she then rolls over so I can see her. Her face is lit only by moonlight and she looks much relieved that I am here. I savor the sound of her words, enjoying it when I hear her speak Abenaki, I wonder if she enjoys it when I speak Mohawk? A fellow assassins once told me that language is sometimes more powerful when a simple word is not just said, but _how_ it is said. "You knew I was awake?"

I smile softly as I wrap my arm around her and she rests her head on my chest, "I had suspicions." I reply nonchalantly, trying to sound calmer than I was. But it was nearly impossible to remain calm at the juncture. I had been gone for several weeks, thinking only of the moment when I would return home to her, and how good it would feel to hold her and again and to touch her again. All of that was radically compounded by her antics with my hand, my skin felt like it was burning now, yet I had to remain calm. "I rarely sleep well when I am away, I assumed that you suffered similarly as you always look tired when I return." She smiles and chuckles softly, it's a low sound, and lasts only a moment but it warms me to hear it.

"I have missed you." She says to me as she entangles a leg with mine in an attempt to be closer, I know what she desires, for I desire it too, but something stays my hands only for a few more moments I tell myself. I smile at her, not returning her words right away. Being intimate does not come very easily for me as it does for her, she knows this and expects no great declaration of love from me, even though I have given them to her.

She props herself up on her elbow with the sheet wrapped securely around her chest, not clinging to the concept of modesty, but to only irritate me, in a playful manner that is. She wants to push me a little bit, to nudge me until I make the first move, it is a game we play. In a surprising movement she gives in and brings my hand to her lips again, what normally is an act of play is now a moment of surrender. "Are you in pain?" She asks softly, while its true I have small aches from travel, I shake my head, they will fade in a days time. "And these?" She asks gesturing to my scratched knuckles.

I smirk as I think of the man who's face I had broken with them, "It is fine." I reply.

"I imagine someones face feels differently." Always the quick retort, now she brushes over the scabs with her fingertips in a loving and intimate motion, she's winding me up and not really even trying all that hard.

"They say to never punch a man closed-fisted but it is occasionally well deserved and amusing." I open and close my hand, stretching the muscles, fighting the aches. "I trust you have come to no injury in my absence?"

She chuckles once more a little louder this time, "No, but a few of the recruits may need to take it easy for a few days." There it is, that indomitable spirit that flows from her, its part of what draws me to her so.

I can take it no longer, all the gentle and lingering touches have been building up and at last I feel there is no need to wait any longer, with my other hand I reach up to grip the back of her neck and I bring her lips to mine.

_**Chenoa I remain…**_

I've missed him, and I've missed his touch, missed how he is behind closed doors. Always the dominant male of the Brotherhood and yet here with me we are perfect equals and yet there is still an air of assertiveness that makes me tremble when he touches me.

He's missed me too, I can taste it on his lips, feel it in how he grips me, pulling me closer to him anxious to show me how he's missed me. He always takes his time with me, only once have we ever been thrown together where we were both frantic and passionate and while it was certainly enjoyable, I much prefer this dance to that. He is still so confident and commanding in what he wants, he always has been. His kiss is deep and I feel I can only fall into it, there is no use in trying to deny him, I couldn't if I tried. His hand is tangled in my hair while the other rests on my back, gently stroking the skin there. I feel myself being swept up in a maelstrom of passion and all I can do is hold on as his lips move from mine to the hollow of my throat and he maneuvers me onto my back.

My breathing is heavy now and I cannot help but moan as he reaches the base of my neck where it and my shoulder meet, he enjoys leaving small marks on me, only where he can see. He sucks hard on my neck and I can feel his teeth graze my skin, the sensation is powerful and I shudder against him. He knows this is what it does to me and yet he does it anyway. Finally satisfied with his work he kisses me again with equal force, I suck gently on his lower lip and slip my tongue into his mouth, he groans in return, enjoying the way I embrace him, how I submit to him.

"_Ratohnhaké:ton" _I whisper to him as I move my lips down his neck gently sucking against his Adams apple, I can feel him growl softly. Only I call him that, and it drives him mad, for his lover to call him that name the way I do. His grip o me tightens a little bit and I know I'm pushing him, I want him to loose himself. Always so calm and collected, so cool and calculating, I love watching him come undone. "_Ratohnhaké:ton…" _I whisper against his skin again, I'm not sure what I want but I know what will push him bit farther. In a terribly bold movement I wrap my leg around him waist and push myself against him, his skin is hot and I can feel every inch of him against me. He groans inwardly and moves down my neck once more, all other words die on my lips as his lips find my breast, and swirls his tongue around my nipple. All I can do is moan and writhe beneath him, desperate for more contact. His callused fingers massage my other breast and tease the sensitive flesh there earning him, what must be music to his ears. Little moans and whimpers which he pulls from me effortlessly.

I wonder if he ever imagined this when he saved me, I wonder is these thoughts were the thoughts that wreaked havoc in his mind when he held me cold and naked against him in that cavern. I certainly entertained several such thoughts after I came to know him, it was impossible to deny them. How could I ignore that dark and handsome face beneath that hood, or those strong hands that now brought me pleasure. I had indeed wondered what it would be like to feel his skin against mine and his lips against mine. On more than one occasion before we became intimate I would often picture him in my mind, that it was his hands on my body instead of my own. I always imagined him silent as a lover, but reality was far sweeter than any fantasy I had ever known.

_**Ratohnhaké:ton I remain…**_

She mews sweetly and tastes even more so as I kiss her and touch her body, it is her own doing in a way though, she teased me with how she spoke my name and her little antics to arouse me have worked all too well. I am never this impulsive, normally quiet and perhaps a bit reluctant to be bold with any woman. Yet here I am, in our bed with her beneath me whimpering, aching for me. One of her hands is tangled in my hair, nails grazing my scalp, it's a deeply satisfying and erotic sensation. I pause in my ministrations to enjoy the chills she gives me, the first time we were together was after the death of my father, I cut my hair for battle, that was when she came to me. It's been months since then and its not at the length it was but I consider keeping it short if it means I'll have the pleasure of feeling her nails brushing my scalp. I allow myself a moment to enjoy it before I return to her, alternative my hand and my mouth. I'm always gentle with her but I cannot deny the thrill I feel when I hear the sounds she makes. I want to hear them again, the other sounds. Giving her no warning, I gently bite down on her nipple, not enough to hurt her, but enough to earn me a gentle cry of exasperation.

If I was to be deprived of all other sensation then at least let keep my hearing, let me still hear her, each noise, each moan, each little sigh of pleasure. It's euphoric and I want more, I want to see her come even more undone, she's most beautiful when she's lost all of that quiet resolve and all that remains is pure lust. I'm sure she's ready for me, as I am for her, painfully so, it had been all I was thinking about on the journey home, but I want to see her fall to pieces first.

I've teased her quite enough for now, and once more I press my lips to hers, letting her draw me in with her wicked tongue. Meanwhile I slip my hand down her long body barely touching her until I reach the apex of her thighs, where I can feel her heat. I barely touch her and her lips tremble against mine and there is the tiniest moan of anticipation, she ceases to move against me until I bring her back to her senses with my fingers as I slide one into her. It's a sinful sensation feeling her tightness and it causes me to shudder thinking of how she will feel with me inside her properly. She pauses against my lips and its only when I begin to slip my finger in and out that she seems to breathe again, her body begins to grow accustomed to my fingers and we fall into a rhythm until I add a second finger, teasing her a bit as she teased me with the kisses to my fingers earlier. With the addition of another finger she seizes up and goes rigid for a moment then she becomes accustomed to my ministrations, I can feel her hips buck against my hand and it's maddening. I can feel the once dull ache below my waist now a painful throbbing, I want her badly but not yet, she's not quite ready yet. With the addition of my last finger she has no more words, barely even a whimper, only the sound of her breathing and its enough to sustain me. I swallow the lump in my throat thinking to myself of sweet her body is being to me and how eager she is for me. I press kisses to her neck and near her ear where she is most vulnerable to me. It seems that all she can do is try to steady her breathing as I bring her closer and closer, it is only when I gently press my thumb against the soft bundle of nerves and gently stroke her that she finally breaks. Throwing back her head and arching her body against my hand, as the throws of passion overtake her, I can see her tremble as the waves wash over her and she goes rigid once more, muscles straining against the incredible pleasure I've given her. It's in this moment that she's most beautiful to me, not the medicine woman, but my woman.

I cease my movements and allow her a moment to recover, not wanting to cause her pain due to the heightened sensitivity that was usually accompanied by long periods of abstinence. She pants loudly and sweat glistens off her skin, her eyes are still tightly shut, the crazed rise and fall of her chest is incredibly arousing. My hand rests against her hip as I steal a kiss from her, she mumbles something I can't understand, it sounds like French and I can tell I've truly undone her, she can barely form words. I cannot help the smirk that is now on my face. Then she is calm and serene as her breathing steadies and she regains control of herself. Her eyes open now and they are hazy and full of desire, her russet hair is fanned out behind her and she sits up, casting the tangled sheet aside.

She speaks no words to me but I can see something in her eyes, something terribly exciting in her eyes. She takes my hand, the fingers that have given her pleasure and slips each one into her mouth sucking on them one at a time, tasting her own release. I feel electricity shoot from my hand to my groin and I feel my resolve shaking to not just throw her down and have her. But I allow her this moment, it's simple and yet the feeling is indescribable. When she's finished she sits on her knees and pushes me back onto the bed where she was, I can smell her, and I watch as she sits astride me.

All that time ago, I never would have imagined any of this as a possibility of my involvement with her, I wonder if she's fantasized of moments like this like I have. Late at night when we are apart and the only form of relief comes from my own hand, and while it serves its purpose, there is no comparison. All these things I want to know yet to speak right now seems just wrong.

_**Chenoa I will be…**_

I have calmed myself after his ministrations, and I would think I would have to be in order to give him what he needs, what he deserves now. Never have I had such exquisite pleasure as he's given to me. It's only fair that I take my time in returning the favor. His length is pressing against me and for a moment I'd forgotten how large it was, I will be sore tomorrow but I cannot find it in me to care at present.

The only light is what streams through the window, illuminating us, I can see his dark eyes, filled with lust and adoration. He takes such satisfaction in satisfying me, if I were tired enough he would hold me until I fell asleep not concerned with his own release, but I can't allow that. I crawl over him, meeting his intense gaze, brushing my lips against his own, pulling away before he can kiss me. He doesn't understand why I would do so, but it hits him as I brush my lips down his jaw, and then his neck, moving slowly down his body. Knowing that he would only have release once I want to make it as enjoyable for him as I can. I move down his chest my nails gently scratching him, stroking his tired muscles. Further down I move until I come to the 'V' just above his length, it's one of my favorite parts of him, almost like a tease itself. His breathe is controlled for now and he's anxious, several weeks with his only relief being his own hand, I want him to enjoy this. My fingers softly grip him, causing him to wince whether its in pain or pleasure, that I'm not sure but when I hear him hissing when I slide my lips over him I know its in pleasure.

He grips the sheets as I take him completely into my mouth, slowly as I can, he exhales deeply and his chest expands to hastily gulp down more air. He's never enjoyed the pleasure of a woman's mouth on him, not like this, not until I gave it to him. I'm gentle with him, not wanting to overwhelm him too soon, I still want to feel him inside me. My tongue travels up and down him in a slow and deliberate manner. He moans loudly, nearly tearing the sheets, his knuckles turning pale. I can taste him, and its a taste that only adds heat to my growing fire once more.

Despite how he's enjoying this I can feel him growing impatient, he's probably in a small amount of torturous pain. With a few final licks, I swallow him as far as I can go without gagging, enjoying the sounds he makes. His muscles tense and his entire body is hard, I can't wait any longer. I release him from my mouth and sit right atop of him, giving him only a second to catch his breath before I slide down onto him.

He moans my name and curses in Mohawk, the sound is harsh and sends chills up and down my spine as he fills me completely. A guttural moan is ripped from his throat as he regains his breath, his fingers had brought me to the edge of near insanity but _this! _This was what I had wanted, my body craved his, and now I had him.

Laying on his back, eyes slammed shut, breath coming in snake-liking hisses as he savors how tight I am around him, and how hot and wet he's made me. A moment of stillness, his hands find their way to my hips and urge me to move, I do, he meets each of my movements with a thrust of his own. He likes to be in charge but I can tell he's relishing in this, how he can lie back and just indulge. I'm sure he'll come to his senses in a few moments. He horsely whispers his name for me "_Ori:te nih wa'a", _ he's lost in contentment, allowing me a few more moments of dominance. My hands grasp at his chest, rubbing the taut muscles of his abdomen, I can barely think straight, the feeling is almost too much for me to bear. Several weeks of lonely nights and even though it is euphoric it still hurts a bit.

As I move slowly, he returns to his senses and when I open my eyes, he is watching me, slack-jawed and growing restless on his back. He pulls me down to him crushing his mouth against mine, tearing a moan from my lips. He slows our movement and flips us, so that I now lay on my back where I once was, he's never left me and now that he is in control again he kisses me once more before sliding completely out and then slowly returning. I gasp in pleasure, my back arching slightly.

"_Ratohnhaké:ton" _I whisper, feeling him grip the bed, like he's about to loose his mind again, he pauses and looks me in the eyes and I speak one word to him. "_Please." _His eyes go wide and he obliges, picking up his speed making each stroke count. He doesn't speak now, he's past that and now I see him perfectly. Not as a predator but as my hunter, his eyes burning into me as I feel a coil deep in my belly tighten with each thrust.

He thrusts harder and harder, faster and faster, but not neglecting an opportunity to make me squirm for him. He pins my arms above my head with one hand and slips his lips over my nipple once more while his other hand slips down between us, stroking me again as he did earlier. I can feel my body grip him tighter and I'm nearly ready to shatter fro him again. I'm panting again, in-between moans I speak his name, muttering things to him in the Abenaki tongue. I only hear him grunt and groan as he becomes more and more wolf-like. Then in that instant I break once more, and a scream escapes my lips, I cry out his name once more. My body spasms around him, I struggle to free my arms from his iron-like grip, wanting to touch him. He relents and releases me, swallowing my scream with a kiss. The torrents of pleasure rip through me and seem to last forever, then he follows suit, finally finding his own release with a growl, I can feel his body shudder as he spills into me. Every muscle is on fire and he gasps for breath as he finally collapses, careful not to put too much of his weight on me.

A thin sheen of sweat coats us both from our exertions and cools us amid the summer heat, he's beyond exhausted now and moments from falling asleep but somehow aware enough to roll over and bring me with him for a deep, soul-scorching kiss.

"I've missed you as well." He finally returns breathlessly, another soft kiss and he breathes one last thing against my lips "Konnorónhkwa."

A sense of relief washes over me, my Mohawk is home. My assassin. Moments later sleep has finally claimed him and he rests peacefully at my side, with his arm still wrapped around me protectively. I rest my head against his chest and for the first time in weeks I will sleep well.

OOO

Thats it! Hope you guys liked it! Let me know if I should keep going, or if a one-shot is a good stopping place.

Olipaiôn wigwam- Welcome Home (Abenaki)

Konnorónhkwa- I Love you/I show you I care (Mohawk)


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